The Crescent and the Cross
by AndreJCacha337
Summary: 1190 AD, the Holy Land. Jerusalem has fallen to the Saracens, led by Saladin -the Sword of Islam. The kingdoms of Europe unite in the Third Crusade, and their armies march once more to free Jerusalem in the name of God. As the Holy Land braces for the titanic clash between two of the world's great faiths, individuals from both Christian and Muslim sides will have their stories told
1. Preface

Important Note to Readers *

To better help readers in understanding the physical aspects of the characters in this story, I will briefly explain how they look.

There are two main races I have included in this story - Europeans and Saracens (Arabs, Syrians, etc.).

All Europeans in this story are chipmunk humanoids, meaning they are of the same size and height as humans, just with furred bodies and CGI chipmunk faces.

All Saracens and other races are regular humans and will be as described and detailed in the story.

Thank you very much, and enjoy the story.


	2. Chapter 1

July, 1190 Anno Domini

The warm, salty Mediterranean sea breeze brought a moment of relief to the two chipmunks who stood closely beside each other under the summer sun. White seabirds called to each other and flew low over the dark blue waters, with some standing on rocks closer to the coast.

It was an almost cloudless day, and was indeed wonderful weather to be enjoyed, had it not been for the situation at hand.

"How am I to return to Paris alone?" Lady Brittany asked, staring straight at the vast expanse of sea in front of her.

The knight beside her moved, turning slightly to face her. He wanted to look into her eyes one more time. No, he needed to look into her eyes one more time. He remembered them just as they were when she completely took his heart two summers back, as they passed each other along a quiet Paris cloister. He remembered the pair of big, deep blue, beautiful, yet seductively half-lidded eyes that smiled at him for those brief seconds. He thought they were absolutely lovely, whether she was in tears or struck with joy.

Right now, they seemed unsure, and he could sense some anger in them.

"You needn't worry, my Lady." he said in the best assuring tone he could muster at the moment, "I have made it my utmost priority to have trusted guards accompany you on the way back."

Some waves crashed against the sea wall that they were standing on top of, and a stronger gust of wind blew through her loose auburn hair. She closed her eyes, and shook her head slightly.

"Please say my name, Alvin." she said, ever so softly but with a quiver to her voice. "I want to hear you call me by my name."

"Brittany.."

She was hurting, feeling the pain slowly consume her heart, but the sound of her name from his lips never failed to make her want to smile. But she held it back. She couldn't show him that. Not now.

"Brittany.." he continued, and moved closer to hold her hand with both of his. "You know you are my Lady. And you know that you will always be my Lady." She turned towards him, and opened her eyes to look up into his. He could see that they could not open fully and were welled up with tears, but even so they still glistened a brilliant blue. She was trying to say something. To say many things. To pour out all that had been gathering inside her ever since she knew of his plans the night before.

"Then make me yours." she said shakily, trying her very best not to blurt out and sob uncontrollably. "Pledge yourself to me, and I will pledge all of myself to you without hesitation, with God as our witness."

"And I will, my love." he said immediately after her, bringing up his hand to caress her soft and lovely cheeks and wipe away a tear that had escaped her eye. "As soon as I return from the Holy Land..."

Her heart was stung bitterly once more at the mention of the place. "You don't have to return from anywhere." she said, "You can be right here, with me."

"I have a duty to God. To bear and protect the Cross."

"You also have to protect me!"

"My love," he cupped her face with both his hands lovingly. "Jerusalem has fallen. Islam now spreads like wildfire throughout the Holy Land, and its false teachings have even reached our shores. My very aim is to protect you. It has always been to protect you, to protect our future together."

"The Saracens are terrible men. They'll kill you!"

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and deeply admiring how beautiful she was even in her current emotional state. "How can you be so sure?"

She sniffed, and looked down from his eyes to his chest, knowing she couldn't be absolutely sure that he was not going to be able to hold himself up to his enemies. She looked at the single yellow diagonal stripe against a blue background, with a singular blue fleur-de-lis that decorated his surcoat - the coat-of-arms of the Seyvilles. At the knightly tournaments in Paris, she would delight in the excitement and the opportunity for a break in what she felt was a monotonous daily routine. She would observe and study the colourful array of banners, standards, and coat-of-arms that went along the roads - carried by squires and sometimes the knights themselves. And she would try to make out what the symbols meant for each one - it could be a prancing lion, a highly decorated cross, or a plain colour. It kept her happily busy while waiting for the events to begin.

"You're right, I can't." she said in a less distressed tone, and put her hand on his right chest. "Do you still have it?"

He covered her hand with his. "Yes, I do. It still smells like you."

She began to smile through tears. It brought a flutter of passionate memories to her heart, knowing that he still kept her favour closest to his heart. She had given it to him from the stands at the tournament grounds just outside the walls of Paris a year ago - a white, linen handkerchief embroidered with a red 'BR' she had all sewn herself, splashed with the rose oil scent she wore herself. Respecting her wishes of not wanting to make their affection too public, he had tucked it away under his hauberk.

"Must you leave me now?" she looked up at him again, into those warm brown eyes that always comforted her. "I hear the English are coming here, to Marseille, to set sail. You could be here for longer."

"It does not feel right that I should be so far from my King." he replied, "Philip now marches towards Genoa, where our ships are waiting. I intend to ride there, and join them."

"Then let me go with you." she said, her eyes pleading. "There are still Christian strongholds in the Holy Land, are there not?"

"There is Tyre, but it is surrounded by Saracen territory. And the journey is dangerous. Almost all of the camp followers perished on the way in the last Crusade. I cannot bear the thought of losing you that way." he said.

"Neither can I. How long will you be gone? How long must I wait before I am in your arms again?" she asked, and he could see that her tears were returning.

"Shh, shh. My love, don't weep any further." he said, putting his arms around her waist and holding her close to him. Her long dress was smooth and of good quality material, only fitting for a noblewoman of her standing. He thought it showed off her curves just right, the way it fitted her petite figure from her full breasts, to her lovely stomach and contoured waist, to her hips.

"It will only be a couple of years, at the very most." he continued, "It need not be that long."

She cried into his surcoat. "I love you, Alvin."

He felt his heart in a knot, seeing her cry like this. Tears slowly came to his own eyes, though he tried to hold them back. "I love you, Brittany. I will always love you."

He removed his hands from her waist and held her face again, bringing it up to his. Her furry, light cream brown cheeks were stained with tears.

"Even in the face of my enemies, I will always think of you." he said, and pressed his lips to hers without further hesitation. They had kissed on numerous occasions, but each time was ecstasy. Her lips tasted like strawberries, he thought. Like the sweetest grown in the northwestern province of Brittany. _What a name to match. _

She moaned into the kiss, and he loved the very sound of it. He could taste her tears as he deepened the kiss, caressing her cheeks. She brought up her hands to run her fingers through his somewhat dishevelled brown hair, feeling his scalp. He was a wonderful kisser, which was evident to her even when they shared their first brief one, leading her to wonder whether she was his very first. Though she never questioned him about it. All she knew and all she cared about was that he was her knight, and she was his lady, and that she believed wholeheartedly that God had brought them together.

"Sir."

A young, male voice from behind Alvin brought their moment of passion to an abrupt end. They both parted from each other, though not hastily, still looking into each other's eyes.

"Never too late, but always too early, William." Alvin said with a steady voice, smiling at Brittany before turning around to face the young man.

"Sorry sir, you told me to inform you as soon as your horse was ready." the man said, and motioned to Alvin's sword strapped to his waist. "Would you like me to bring it to your horse?"

"No, my boy. I'll hold on to it." Alvin replied, "Besides, we can all walk to the stables together."

William nodded.

"Hello, William." Brittany said, drying her eyes with her sleeves and running her fingers through her hair, trying not to look like a mess in front of the man.

"Lady Brittany." William said, slightly bowing his head at her.

"You should show respect, my Lady." Alvin said jokingly, and proceeded to give William a rather hard pat on his back. "This boy right here is the future William the Conqueror."

They both chuckled, and William smiled.

Far from a 'boy', William was quite a remarkable individual - well-versed in the ways and dealings of the nobility and improving with the sword. At the tender age of 7, he had been selected by the French royal court as a page, not for themselves but for the Seyvilles who were close and loyal supporters of the French Crown. While his quick grasp of the French and Latin languages was evident at a young age, the Seyvilles were pleasantly surprised to witness his adeptness at reciting poems of courtly love and singing. Now at the age of 20, he had long grown out of a page and into a squire, at the service of Sir Alvin de Seyville. He had a darker shade of auburn hair, and came from the town of Falaise in Normandy - the seat of the Dukes of Normandy before the region came under English Angevin control. Hence, his nickname of 'William the Conqueror', for his hair and birthplace was similar to that of the great Norman king - save his height.

"My Lady, let us walk." Alvin said, extending a hand out to her.

She smiled and took his hand, noticing the bronze crusader ring he had on his left index finger. It was simple, and rather crudely fashioned, with a plain cross engraved on its head. He had told her about how one of his uncles had fallen at Hattin three years ago, just before Jerusalem surrendered to the Saracens, and how his father had brought the ring home. Alvin himself was not one to boast about his faith, preferring to sit at the rear pews during Mass and opting for less extravagant accessories that displayed his religion.

They proceeded down the stone steps of the seawall, and through an archway which was part of the coastal defences of Marseille. They could hear the fluttering of flags coming from above the walls, and the faint chatter of guards. Marseille was not under French royal control, but was part of the vast Holy Roman Empire which stretched from the eastern borders of France, to the northern Italian provinces, and all the way up to Germany. Alvin had seen the flags of the city while riding towards it - a simple light blue cross over a white background - which signalled to ships that its port was safe under Christian control.

The three continued onto the flattened dirt road which made up the rather narrow streets of Marseille, as Brittany observed the people going about their business. Rows of wooden stalls lined the street in front of three-storey houses which stood high on either side. On her left, she could see fishes of all sizes hanging on a line - having a port definitely had its advantages. She heard rapid chopping sounds coming from the stall, as eager buyers crowded in front trying to get the day's best catch before it ran out. On her right, she looked eagerly at thick rolls of cloth and exotic looking textiles leaning against the wall of a house. _The city surely gets the best goods fresh off the trading ships, _she thought. There was much more variety than the ones Paris offered.

"The Hospitallers are waiting by the main gate." William said, as they weaved through the busy crowds.

"Your companions?" Brittany asked, looking up at Alvin.

"Yours." Alvin replied, "I told you I'd make sure you would be safe on the way back."

"I thought they ran hospitals." she said.

"They may look like robed up surgeons, but I hear they can put up a hell of a fight." he said.

"You don't know for sure?"

"They don't do much fighting here." he said, as they turned a corner. "All the action is in the Holy Land."

A monk was delivering his sermons at the far end of the street they were on. He stood on a small platform, and as they approached they could hear his spirited voice preaching to the crowd that gathered round. He waved his hands enthusiastically in the air as he delivered his message:

"So I say to all of you once more, take up the Cross! Leave behind you, your lives of sinful comfort and idleness! Do you mean to say, that the devils who live in the desert are better men than the good people of this city? Of God's Kingdom?"

The crowd groaned angrily.

"Then take the road to Salvation! The city of our Lord lies molested in Saracen hands! Make strong your faith in your hearts, and make sharp the steel of your swords! King Richard of England marches here as I speak! Join him, and put your civil quarrels aside as you focus on destroying your true enemy!"

William led the group, carefully pushing some people aside as they made their way through the seemingly enthralled crowd. The sermons were becoming all too familiar and repetitive for Brittany, as she would usually wake up to the sounds of loud preaching in Paris. While she was quite sure Alvin felt the same, she also knew his strength of faith was what made him strong in resolve, and thus made him the man she loved.

After a few minutes of navigating through the crowds, they reached the stables, where horses were lined up in their stalls and attended to by stable boys and soldiers. Brittany held Alvin's hand tighter, knowing that the moment of his departure was near, and he responded by caressing her fingers. Their horses were not hard to find, as both knight and lady had pure white horses - coincidence, as they had owned theirs some time before they even met.

"We'll be taking them now, hey?" William said to a dusty looking teenager stacking hay in front of the horses.

A young woman with light golden hair stood by one of the white horses, dressed in a dark green dress of much simpler weave and fashion than Brittany's. She smiled widely at the sight of her Lady, and approached her.

"My Lady, our horses are ready." she said, in a tone and manner which suggested that she was eager to leave the city.

"Thank you, Cecile." Brittany smiled.

Though she was Brittany's maid, Cecile was less free-spirited than her Lady. She disliked spending time in the countryside and travelling to places other than the more wealthy cities of Paris and Rouen. She valued security and familiarity, and used to check on Brittany too often throughout the day before she became accustomed to her duties. She was, however, slim and pretty - with light brown fur, small but well-shaped breasts, and shapely thighs which could be made out from the way her dress hugged her legs from the side while she walked. Common men and even soldiers would give her looks and smiles as she walked along the roads with her Lady, knowing full well that Brittany was out of their options. Even so, Cecile carried herself with dignity.

"Is that your knight?" the stable boy asked, motioning with his head at Alvin.

"Yes, and he'll also be the one to teach you a lesson if you don't address him respectfully." William said in a low voice.

"Nothing of the sort." the boy said, and called out to Alvin excitedly, "I have your horse fed and ready, Sir!"

He opened the stall gates, and slowly guided Alvin's horse out before doing the same with Brittany's. Alvin carefully studied the condition of his horse from top to bottom, looking for any signs of disease or malnutrition. Genoa was about five days ride from Marseille, and he needed it to be fit for the journey. It had a thick caparison bearing de Seyville's coat-of-arms - a cloth covering its back, sides, and head - for protection. Alvin's saddle was already ready on its back, with his stirrups strapped at its sides. Its ears twitched as it raised its head slightly to look at its owner, who approached it and put his hand on its muzzle.

"Thank you for the care of our horses." Alvin said, looking at the boy. "William, thank the boy."

William gave the boy a nod, and a pat on the back.

"In silver, William. Goodwill is hard to suffice these days." Alvin said.

"But I paid him already."

"Here." Brittany suddenly said, smiling and stepping up to the boy with two pieces of silver coins in her hand. "The fishes at the market look fresh today. Best you hurry."

The boy's face lit up, and he appeared to be rather surprised at the generosity of the noblewoman that stood before him. Goodwill was much easier to come by than silver for those of his standing.

"Thank you, Miss!" he said, and gave Brittany a wide grin before tucking the coins away in a pocket and jogging off to a shed nearby.

Alvin wrapped an arm around her back, and chuckled.

"I always did love your spirit." he said.

"One does not have to be in the Holy Land to contribute to God's work." she said, and smiled up at him.

He nodded at her, admiring her smooth cheeks and her slightly upturned nose which supplemented her allure.

"Indeed." he said, "Let me help you up."

He supported her as she got onto her horse, which was not as highly decorated as his but had a comfortable rawhide saddle. Lady Brittany had learned to ride when she was just a little girl, but it was not until her teenage years when she truly managed to control a steed. She would sit in front, with her father Garnier guiding her with the use of the reins from behind. He met his end in a riding accident with two of his friends before she came of age, and ever since she had promised to herself to finish mastering the use of a horse.

"Please, Sir." Cecile said, also approaching the horse.

"Make sure my Lady gets frequent rests in between." Alvin said, as he helped Cecile up behind Brittany.

"I will, Sir. You needn't worry."

He nodded, and swiftly mounted his own horse. As a knight, he was trained by his uncle Guy de Seyville to fully master the skill of riding and jousting on horseback. He had to become an instrument of death and fear to his enemies - a deadly charge of steel and steed. Disciplined cavalry was a fearsome force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and French mounted knights took great pride in their ability to deliver effective charges against their foes.

He unbuckled his sword and handed it to William, who then tucked it securely into an allocated slot at the side of his saddle.

"Where is the spare horse?" Alvin asked.

"Just outside the main gate, Sir. Along with our supplies." William replied, pointing to the nearby gated archway which led out of the city.

"You should keep them where you can see them, William." Alvin said, and looked over at Brittany. "Let us go, my Lady."

They trotted towards the gate, with William helping guide Alvin's horse by holding the reins close to its head. As they approached the archway, the smoky and delicious smell of roasting meat filled their noses - food the soldiers were preparing on a spit by the side of the open gate. Peasants entered the city carrying hay and crops in their baskets and wheelbarrows, from their farms just outside the walls. The city did not have a formidable wall, Alvin observed, but it was stone and it was enough. When they were through, seven mounted men in black robes with white crosses met them. Some of them had chainmail coifs on their heads, while some went without.

"_Guten Tag,_" the one closest to Alvin said. He had a strong German accent. "De Seyville? We help to escort, yes?"

"Good day, Sir. And to your Hospitallers." Alvin replied, with a raised right hand. "Yes, I am Alvin de Seyville. You are headed to Paris?"

"_Ja._" the Hospitaller knight nodded, "We go to Paris, then we go home. Very long Crusade, brother."

"I see. You come from Jerusalem?"

"_Ja_. Terrible days. We had to abandon hospital, abandon the people, flee to our castle in Rhodes. Now we are few, now we are going home." the knight said, motioning to his comrades.

"Then I bid you good luck. And God bless." Alvin said, reaching forward with his hand. The knight did likewise, and held his hand firm with agreement.

"Wolfram von Landerr." he said, introducing himself. "God bless."

With that, Alvin moved aside so that Brittany could move up to join the Hospitallers. William mounted the spare horse, which was a chestnut brown and laden with packs of supplies rolled in cloth.

"My Lady." Alvin said, and held Brittany's arm. "My beautiful Lady."

She looked at him, trying to take in as much of his face as she could in memory, for she knew that was all she could have of him until he returned. She looked deep into his brown eyes, his handsome face and jawline, his dark brown fur and dishevelled hair. And the voice that made her feel so secure. The arms that held her and loved her. The body that was her refuge. The heart that he vowed would be hers, and hers alone.

They kissed one more time, without a care even if it was in full view of the Hospitallers or the people who went in and out of the gate. Their lips savoured each other, and their tongues wrestled. They parted after a few seconds, slightly panting and aflame with a passion that could not be fully satisfied in the brief moment they had left with each other.

"I love you."

Alvin looked into her deep blue eyes once more, and with a sudden swift yank of the reins, he turned his horse and slowly headed off. He couldn't prolong the departure, for his heart was slowly aching the more he looked at her and longed for more of her. No, he needed to be strong now for his mission,

for his Lady,

for his King,

for his God.


End file.
